#okay but does anyone actually read my tags?!?!

[duhragonball]

Daima 06: Lightning

Centipedes? In my rations? It's more likely than you think!

Last time, Goku's group set out for the next leg of their trip, when the plane crashed. Apparently it wasn't that big a deal. Panzy concludes that they put too much luggage on board, which kept the plane from flying very far, but it didn't actually do much damage. Panzy recommends they leave a bunch of their supplies behind and she'll give the engine a look and they can be on their way.

Okay, I think there's a growing consensus among fans that Daima is slower-paced, and maybe this is setting up a controversy over whether this is a good or bad thing. Maybe the honeymoon period for the show is winding down, or we're just far enough into the series for the audience to realize it's probably going to be this way from here on. So I'll go ahead and weigh in on this.

For my part, I think the pacing is fine. It's different from the other shows in that you don't have this constant reliance on filler to pad the runtime. We're not checking in on King Kai to see what he thinks about all of this, or sending Goku on a fetch quest that ends up becoming a plot cul-de-sac. Instead, we're mostly laser-focused on this one set of characters on a journey, and occasionally we'll switch over to Gomah or Bulma's group on Earth, and pretty infrequently too.

But Daima does its own padding for time, and it does it by lingering a bit on things that probably don't need quite so much time. Conversations take a bit longer than they need to. The running gag where Goku gets Glorio's name wrong. The fight scenes are a tag gratuitous, but I think everyone gives them a pass because they're good. Still, I don't think anyone was worried about whether Goku could win that barroom brawl. If this show had half as many episodes allotted to the same plot, I'm pretty sure they could cut a lot of material and get the important stuff to fit.

I don't mind that much, because this relaxed pace kind of reminds me of reading the Dragon Ball manga. By that, I mean each episode kind of feels like a manga chapter, and not that much gets done in a single chapter. You might have several panels of characters getting to know each other, and then just enough exciting stuff to make the chapter feel worthwhile. Actually now that I think about it, it's a lot like my experience reading the Jaco the Galactic Patrolman manga. It's like twelve chapters, and the first five or so are very focused on introducing characters and situations, so it really doesn't pick up until the end, and even then, it's still quite low-key. But it's so good that I didn't mind it. It was just really chill. Daima feels a lot like that.

That having been said, I do find this plane crash between Episodes 5 and 6 kind of a cheap way to waste time. King Kadan described all the extra provisions he loaded onto the plane in Episode 5, then the plane started to go down and Panzy said it was the excess luggage. Then in Episode 6 the plane lands and Panzy repeats that the luggage was the problem, and she lists all the supplies all over again.

Then Panzy gets out her tools to run a diagnostic on the engine, but instead of actually working on the plane, she asks the Supreme Kai what his whole deal is. And that's fine, but it starts to wear thin in places. Like, they could have just had this conversation on the plane and gotten wherever they're going. The plane crash just adds time, and I'm not sure how many more times they're going to pull that trick before it gets old.

Nevertheless, I'd rather watch these characters talk about themselves outdoors than on the plane, so I'm not too worked up over it. But I can already tell this is going to be a focus for Daima critics in the future.

I like the way Goku explains the Supreme Kai. He tells Panzy there's a "bunch of god-like guys called 'Kais.' And the greatest one of them all is Supreme Kai-sama here!" and he gives him a hug while he says it, like he's bragging on a pal, which I guess he is. I just think it's nice to hear Goku's perspectives on all of his friends.

Panzy's impressed that Shin is a god, and that he made a smart move leaving the Demon Realm to take the job, but then she finds out he doesn't get paid, so it sounds less impressive to her. This kind of raises more questions than answers. Does Panzy even understand what a god is? Also, it seems pretty clear now that Shin and all the other Kais were born in Demon Realm and left to become gods in the Outer Universe, but how did that work? Did Grand Zeno put up a help-wanted sign? Were their other overseers that the Glind replaced when they became the Kais?

I just always assumed these guys were some sort of weird feature of the design of the universe. Like, there were always Kais running things, and they were literally born and bred to carry out that role. But no, they're just Demon Realm expats who showed up to work one day. If the universe functioned without them before, then why do we need them now? Hopefully this series will answer all of this.

Anyway, Goku's gotta poop, so he just announces this to everyone for no reason. He farted in Episode 3, so I have this sneaking suspicion that this show is going to do a lot of Goku poop-and-fart stuff as we go. That might be a good idea, as it keeps the show from getting too reliant on "Goku's hungry" gags. GT did those a lot, and it got pretty ridiculous. It got to where Goku would complain about being hungry right after he got done eating. If he said he had to poop half the time, at least it would cut the hungry gags down to a manageable level.

Anyway, Gomah's troops show up while they're waiting for Goku, so Glorio and the others have to play it cool to get rid of them. Glorio claims to be from the First Demon World, and Shin from the Second, but since Panzy's from the Third, they want to scan her collar, which she has under her scarf. Gomah apparently made all the Third Worlders wear the collars to make it easier to collect taxes from them, but he didn't implement this policy elsewhere, since the goons aren't too suspicious of Glorio or Shin. They find the idea of tourists traveling around the Third World strange, but let them go. Oh, and they ask if they've seen a kid with spiky hair and red pole, because there's a ten gold coin reward out for him.

Goku returns when they leave, and Shin suggests that Goku tie his hair back or something. Goku says his hair is too resilient for this. Oh, right, there was that Super episode where he had all that hair gel in it, and his hair sort of broke loose like when the Incredible Hulk rips through Banner's pants legs but not the crotch. Panzy asks if Goku washed his hands, and the answer to that question is no. Goku, that's nasty.

The gang take off again, and Panzy asks Shin if it's true that Glinds are born from trees. Shin confirms this, so I'm glad we're not doing away with that lore. I was seriously beginning to wonder if Toriyama forgot about all that stuff, or if he was dumping it in favor of new lore. Of course, this is all news to Goku, so the Supreme Kai explains how his kind are born "once every few centuries from the Glind Tree". There's a flashback to show this, and we see these trees with big purple trunks that are all fat on the bottom, and the newborn Glinds are in these holes in the bark, just hanging off of stems from their backs.

Also interesting to note: the Glind buildings and vehicles in this shot look a lot like Namekian houses and ships. I don't know if that's intentional, or this is just Toriyama's aesthetic for this sort of thing. I always thought Majin Buu's house looked a lot like Namekian architecture, for example.

So does that make the Supreme Kai and the other Glinds plants? I never really thought of it that way, so Goku raises an interesting point. Shin says he "doesn't know about that". I feel like there ought to be a firm answer to this, one way or another. Goku also asks if this is why Shin only drinks liquids and never eats, but Panzy jumps in before he can respond. I feel like we've seen Shin eat before, but oh well.

Panzy wants to know about Degesu, who works as Gomah's second-in-command. Is he Shin's brother? Yes, because he was born from the same tree about 216 years after Shin. Are all of the Glinds brothers, since they're all born from the same tree? No, because there's five Glind Trees. Kibito and the Elder Supreme Kai must have been born from one of the others.

Panzy wants to know why Degesu remained in the Demon Realm instead of leaving with the other Glinds? Okay, this implies that there was one Glind migration out of Demon Realm, and Degesu chose not to go. But for this to work, it must have happened after Degesu's birth, which is well after Shin's.

The thing is, Kibito is much older than both of them, and the other Supreme Kais from Universe 7 are even older still. I'm talking about the ones who fought Majin Buu and Bibidi like five million years ago. The whole point of all that was that Shin was the rookie Supreme Kai, implying that the others had been doing the whole god thing for a lot longer.

And then you have the Elder Supreme Kai, who's much, much older still. He claimed to be the Supreme Kai from fifteen generations prior. I'm not even sure what that means if they were all born from the same five trees. Maybe it just means there were thirteen Supreme Kais between the Elder and the current Supreme Kai. But Shin reigned as Supreme Kai for at least five million years, so these aren't short terms in office.

I'm not too worried about this, because I have to assume we'll get to an episode that explains the Namek and Glind exodus from Demon Realm. They keep bringing it up, so it must be important. And I guess this is what I mean when I say I don't mind the slow pace of this show. There's still a lot to look forward to, even if it's just characters swapping lore.

But back to Degesu, Shin says that he was very ambitious and didn't get along with the other Glinds. That doesn't seem like much of an answer to me. Then again, Shin came along on this mission because he hasn't seen Degesu in so long and he really doesn't know what he's been up to after all this time. He may not know a whole lot about him in the first place.

Panzy asks about a Glind woman who's a genius scientist, and Shin confirms that this is Arinsu, his older sister. Or, more accurately, they're siblings, since Glinds don't actually have genders, so they're not "exactly men or women."

Again, I had heard this about the "Core People" before, and I'm glad they didn't toss out this lore. I've never quite understood it, though, since the Elder Kai is big horndog, and the Supreme Kai of Time once got a big crush on Bardock in Xenoverse 2. Arinsu has big ol' titties, and I don't know how you get those if you grow from a tree. Like, none of these guys have anything to do with sex at all, right? The trees might have freaky deaky alien tree sex, but not the Glinds themselves.

Then again, I guess this is all just fantasy stuff, and I might as well be asking why Arinsu has nostrils or ears. There must be some magic that makes these trees grow people, and maybe some of them end up with big ol' titties or a magnum dong or both or neither. But until today I kind of figured all of the Kais were just completely smooth down there. Like they didn't even have buttholes.

Perhaps they modify their bodies at some point in their life cycle, and some of them present as man or women just out of a personal preference or some sense of fashion. This might explain the Supreme Kai of Time's transformation where she gets really tall and shapely. They all sit around figuring out what they want to look like, like they're screwing around with a character creator mode in a video game. Chronoa's like "Yeah, I want my base form to be all smol and cute, and then my super form's gonna have a big ass and big-ass titties."

Wait, maybe I'm onto something. The Supreme Kai gave Goku those pointy ears with remarkable ease. Maybe that's not a special weird power that only gods have. Maybe all the Glind have it and they do it to themselves all the time. Degesu just gives himself a third testicle for a week to "see how it rides."

Anyway, we don't learn anything new about Arinsu in all of this. She's a mad scientist who also stayed behind for the excitement of Demon Realm, but this was already known.

Night falls and Panzy explains that it's perpetual twilight on Third Demon World nights because there's two suns. Glorio wants to land and make camp in a cave for the night, and Panzy hates this because she wants to shower. Goku's like "skill issue, just never shower, like I do."

While Goku sleeps off dinner, Panzy asks why Glorio says he's from First World, when he looks like a Third World guy. He claims that he got hired by someone in First World, so he currently lives there. Who hired him? He deflects the question. Shin asks why he wants to defeat Gomah, and he claims it's because Gomah is evil, but Shin finds it odd for a Majin to have such a defined sense of justice.

Anyway, we find out exactly who Glorio's working for, because he phones up Dr. Arinsu while the others are asleep. But Shin hears him return to camp, so he clearly knows something's up, even if he doesn't know what.

By early morning, a minotaur comes out of the cave they're sleeping in, and he plans to eat them all. Apparently he stinks really bad. Goku isn't scared because he thinks the guy is a cow, so he doesn't get why this guy thinks he's on the other end of the food chain. Normally this is where Goku would kick some ass, but Glorio volunteers first, and Goku's like "Uh, I'm the main character, I should fight this guy." But Glorio doesn't see it that way, because he doesn't think Goku's that much stronger. Well, there's only one way to settle this, so it's on.

Yeah, the minotaur gets reduced to a spectator, and it's Goku vs. Glorio. Goku's impressed with Glorio's abilities, but we all know he's not trying very hard. Finally, Glorio whips out some purple lightning powers, and Shin asks Goku to fight harder so he can see the true extent of Glorio's power. I guess he figures that'll help him understand Glorio's agenda better.

So Goku fights harder, but Glorio manages to knock the Nyoibo out of Goku's hand, and he prepares to fire some big finishing lightning move. Goku decides to try something out, and he turns Super Saiyan. He did this briefly in Episode 5, but now he's staying in that form, and just stands there and lets Glorio shoot at him so he can try to deflect the beam. And he does. He just throws out his hand and it dissipates on contact. Goku does a little self-satisfied "Hmp!" and then snap-vanishes behind Glorio and puts his hand on his back. Fight's over, Goku wins.

This is a really great way to introduce Super Saiyan into the series. This is very likely the most iconic aspect of Dragon Ball. Maybe the Kamehameha clears it, but I don't think there's much else that comes close. So it's hard to imagine viewers who don't know anything about the form, but they're still out there and they need to know. So we have Goku fighting in base form, and then he decides to use it, not to win a hopeless battle, but to do something cool in a sparring match. Base Goku could probably have done something else to defend against Glorio's power, but Super Saiyan Goku can just tank the thing and get past Glorio's guard all at once.

It doesn't give away the entire Super Saiyan experience. It's a power up, and it shows a lot of promise, but here, it's just one of Goku's many techniques. The full extend of it can be shown off later. It's still an open question how well Goku can fight this way. He's been de-aged, and the environment in Deamon Realm slows him down further, so it's possible that he can't use Super Saiyan as long as he could before, or maybe he can, and it just doesn't give him the same boost that it normally does.

Also, it's just really cool to see Goku enjoy showing it off. He does this cool smile when he finishes transforming, and he looks all badass when he blocks Glorio's beam, and he's grateful that he can still do it in his kid body. "Yep, I'm whatcha call a legend, nbd. The missus doesn't like the hair color, but what're ya gonna do, right?"

Oh, right the minotaur. Well Goku hasn't forgotten him, but the minotaur suddenly remembers that he had a big dinner the night before, so he's too full to kill and eat these guys like he said he would, so he goes back to bed. Well, that's a shame. Maybe they should swing by this cave on their return trip.

Goku poop update: He has to go again.

Meanwhile, back on Earth, Vegeta is doing reps on the Lookout while Bulma finishes the Supreme Kai's old plane. They all pile in to follow Goku to Demon Realm, but Bulma… stays behind? That's weird. Anyway, the ship lifts off, then immediately breaks down. It didn't even get twenty feet into the air. So that's another plane crash cliffhanger for you. I sure hope this show finds a more reliable mode of transportation soon.

[waitmyturtles]

Love In The Big City: An Homage to the Best Queer Show I Watched This Year*

(*that actually aired this year, because I watch a lot of old shows.)

(TW: suicide attempt)

The time I spent reading the novel and watching the television drama series of Love In The Big City by Park Sang-Young was some of the very best time I invested in art this year.

(credit: @/khunkinn)

I wanted to try to keep up with the amazing LITBC Book Club (click the tag below to see all the club's meta!) earlier this year, but I couldn't on my mom schedule. So here's a wrap-up homage to my overall thoughts about this amazing book and its equally amazing drama adaptation, and hopefully I won't repeat anyone's points from earlier meta.

Earlier this fall season, as the drama was just released, I noted my overall thoughts on Park Sang-Young's 2021 novel. What's so great about the moment in time when a book and its drama adaptation meet the same levels of excellence in art, is that you get to see what each artistic medium can really offer by way of its specific ability to penetrate and dissect certain emotional states. With the drama adaptation, we got a more in-depth sense of the visual and behavioral whimsy of Go Young's T-aras friend group. We got a living, breathing sense of the simultaneous quiet and frantic pulse of the Seoul that Young occupied. We could almost taste and smell the sweat, the tequila, the apple martinis of the nightclubs that Young danced in at all hours.

I happened to love the novel, as I wrote in my previous piece linked above, because I love to cringe at really well-written, pathetic narrators. Like Proust's narrator, like Karl Ove Knausgard in his hefty autobiographical series, "My Struggle," you can read the internal musings of these narrators, and you squirm and cringe, being all like.... "really, bro? I know I have trouble getting it together -- emotionally, physically, sexually, everything -- but, dude, YOU are taking the CAKE."

The reason for the squirm is because excellently-written narrators like Proust's narrator, like Knausgard himself (okay, we can argue about "excellently written," but that's for another piece), are emotional pathologists, dissecting every minute whim of a feeling into words, cutting words that account for every last iota of mental anguish that these narrators feel at every given moment.

It's a brutal accountability test for us readers to weather. And, of course, as the very best art does -- it forces us, the readers, to face our own recognition of the kinds of emotions these narrators are detailing, and asks us to relate to them, vis à vis how we ourselves understand these emotions. Thus, a resulting squirm and cringe, as we reckon with our own emotional accountability in that very moment.

I had so many of these wonderful moments when I was reading the novel version of Love In The Big City. Go Young was so cringe. So pathetic.

(credit: @/my-rose-tinted-glasses)

And while the novel delved brutally into the reasons WHY Go Young was so pathetic and cringe, I enjoyed the drama's ability to sensually and holistically take me into that WHY place as well.

For me, Go Young's journey into the adulthood he ends up in begins with the intergenerational trauma and the avoidant attachment he must have with his mother. I say "must" because he's all she's got, and Go Young, to his misfortune, knows this, and must deal with it, and with her.

This is despite her utterly rejecting his identity, his sexuality, and forcing him at a young age to face conversion therapy in as abusive a situation as possible, literally being kidnapped into the therapy. We know from the novel that his therapists end up realizing that his sexuality is not his "issue," and that the "issue" is his actually deranged, Christian-devoted mother.

The drama doesn't get into that level of details. I will absolutely estimate that it COULDN'T get into that level of detail due to potential censorship, and the portrayed meaning of such a comparison as to show a devout Christian mother as a neglectful, bigoted mother.

But what the drama showed me, in real time, were the spontaneous movements and moments that punctuated Young's life, that were totally derived from the low self-esteem, the lack of internal love and respect he had for himself for most of the series. The emptiness, the lack of BELIEF that he had in himself, that stemmed from the refusal of his mother to accept him lovingly and holistically. I'd recommend LITBC to any potential parent as a guide on how to NOT parent your kid.

As someone trained in the social services, and as a steadfast lover of intergenerational trauma in shows -- and how dramas demonstrate the long-term impact of intergeneration trauma unto their characters -- Love In The Big City is utterly SUPERLATIVE in this category.

And this kind of neglect that young queer people so very often face in their families NEEDS to be depicted in art, so that we can see the risks of what these young people could, and will, grow up to be, without nurturing love in their life.

So. Man. Go Young goes fucking ham on fucking hipster doofus Yeong Su in a restaurant. Yeong Su, who himself deals with a kind of internalized homophobia that results in him producing bigoted "research" on homosexuality. And Go Young, unconsciously hoping that he could find love with a most unlovable man, subsequently attempts suicide.

Go Young breaks up with Gyu Ho minutes before Gyu Ho is to depart to China. I saw that moment as Go Young "releasing" Gyu Ho from the burden that Go Young assumes himself to be -- emotional baggage, Kylie, and all.

Go Young cavorts with Habibi, a man escaping just about everything by way of luxury hotels and unfulfilling work. After his real relationship with Gyu Ho, Go Young follows Habibi on Habibi's orders, having little to no agency in the coupling until the absolute end, as he leaves Habibi with a note. Habibi, who himself is also a subject of clear internalized homophobia, another example of the absolute wrath that social bigotry can lay waste on a queer individual.

Love In The Big City balanced these brutal moments of internalized trauma, bigotry, and homophobia with LIFE as it could be lived: life spent working, writing, drinking, partying, sucking dick and moving mattresses, catching up with old friends, supporting engagements, comforting friends after break-ups, BEING PRESENT for yourself and your family and your friends.

There was a shift of growth and responsibility in Go Young's life when his cancer-addled mother sank her head down on his lap in the sunlight of a park at the end of the second chapter of the drama. But what was so OUTSTANDING about the drama version of Love In The Big City, is that the drama didn't assume that that shift would be a great dramatic moment. Go Young certainly got into a relationship with Gyu Ho afterwards.... but he damn fucked it up at the end.

AND IT WAS OKAY. Even though we viewers were fucking heartbroken, IT WAS OKAY....

... because I believe Love In The Big City was communicating to us that it's perfectly okay to stumble in one's continued growth, in the movement forward of one's life. Go Young gets a new apartment, new light in his windows and his life, and celebrates the move (and the end of Eun Su's engagement) on his rooftop with his besties.

The novel ends a bit more brutally than the drama. In the drama, we do very much get to see Go Young doing a moving-forward thing. I was screaming and pacing at @lurkingshan when I finished the novel, and I felt slightly more uplifted when I watched the drama.

I love that I felt those two ways about my experience with each medium. Again, it shows what I GOT from the experience of reading and watching this story separately. And the drama very much played up the T-aras group more for kicks and lights (especially in the hospital), but I still got such a brutal sense of Go Young's internal mishegoss, that maybe I needed those gworls, too, the way Go Young always did.

The other best queer show that I watched this year did not actually air this year. That one is 2022's The Miracle of Teddy Bear from Thailand, which I will review soon for my Thai QL Old GMMTV Challenge project. The Miracle of Teddy Bear was rooted in anger and accountability against parents, adults, and society, for the wreckage that bigotry and abuse can render, internally and externally, on the bodies and minds of young queer people. It was an utterly exacting exercise in a brutal breakdown of queer pain.

Love In The Big City, in comparison, was a visual meditation on the mundanity of an individual's life -- depicting all the cringe and the pain associated with it -- vis à vis broken and incomplete love from family and lovers. But Love In The Big City also had LIFE, LIFE LIVED, woven through it all. Go Young kept clubbing with his friends, because he needed it, because he needed his friends, because his FRIENDS needed the club, and because his friends needed HIM.

While I felt a broken heart for his relationship with Gyu Ho at the end of the drama, what I had for Go Young was hope -- a hope that, while I knew the man, in fiction, would still experience hurt while moving forward, would still very much move forward nonetheless, on his own accord.

(credit: @/khunkinn)

(tagging @neuroticbookworm for awareness <3)

[bomedew]

i love u,, sam winchester,,,

[kaiserouo]

still punch

[mono-socke]

Day 26: Shadow

[front-facing-pokemon]

[spacespore]

HI TUMBLRR it’s me

[splatoon-countdown]

hey, so... you DO know right that if you check out side order on the nintendo e-shop, it has a confirmed release date? 31/12/2024

..... Did this ask time travel, or...?

[hana-the-ghostieee]

hey! so um apparently bots keep following me???? assuming it's the same for everyone else

so if you're a person that's following me (why. what prompted you to make a stupid decision) and you have default... everything um maybe try changing your banner, write something in the desc (like pronouns and sexuality and stuff) and reblog a couple of stuff??? unless you'd like to get blocked. which is fine i guess (i question your motives but you do you)

[inevitablestars]

hm

[jattendschaton]

I do that too lmaooo. How long was your run?

I dont remember the time (it was definitely over an hour haha i am not a fast runner; with the run + stretching I woke up like 2 hours early) but it was 8.3 miles

[straight4joekeery]

Every one says Rocky Horror is Eddie’s favorite and don’t get me wrong it’s a amazing movie and it was his favorite… that is until Heathers came out. This boy loved that movie so much he had the whole thing memorized word for word, scene for scene.

[firebirdsdaughter]

…

[dokries]

OKAY one done ! THREE TO GOOO i think?? i can’t count anymore people

i love my team i love my crew 🫶

[nereidprinc3ss]

light of the morning

in which spencer sneaks into bau!reader's hotel room and they share a little more than just the bed

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence x sub reader, munch!spence, unprotected piv sex (dont do that), creampie (hate that word btw) praise, mentions of having to be quiet because morgan is right next door LOL, fluffy, established co-workers/friends with benefits, soooo idiots in love a/n: here is the promised smut. i am literally kicking my feet and twirling my hair and giggling and blushing at my own writing. I'm gonna have a freak out. requests are open like my legs

It’s late when the knock finally comes. Late enough that you’re dozing on the bed above the covers. 

It takes you a moment to reorient yourself—you’re rubbing your heavy eyes when you finally get the door. 

"Hi."

"Hey," says Spencer, hands awkwardly shoved into his pajama pants pockets. It’s funny, really. He never gets any better at this. 

You step aside and he enters the room, looking around as you close and relock the door. 

"Did I wake you?"

"How could you tell?"

"You’re in pajamas. And you look tired. I mean—you don’t look bad. You never look bad, I just meant… you don’t look tired but you’re not—I didn’t mean to—"

"Relax," you yawn, putting him out of his misery. "I was joking. I know I look tired." You glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. "It’s late. We have to be up early tomorrow."

"Yeah, I got, uh, sidetracked. Sorry."

He was reading. If it was anyone else, you'd be offended--but a sinkhole could open up under Spencer's feet and he probably wouldn't notice if he was absorbed in a book.

You shrug, a knowing smile lifting the corner of your mouth. 

"It’s fine. But I don’t know if tonight is a good night. I really am exhausted."

His eyebrows dart up. 

"That’s fine. That’s totally fine. I’ll just, uh—"

When you don’t move from in front of the door, he pauses, unsure. You bite the inside of your cheek, studying his rangy frame and choice of clothing. Blue pajama pants, slippers, grey CalTech zip up hoodie. It feels wrong to describe a 6'1 man as adorable, but that’s how he looks in his sleep clothes. There’s a very real chance, you find yourself thinking, that you are the only member of the BAU to ever see him in something other than slacks and a button-down. He looks so cozy that you kind of really want him in your bed even if he’s not doing anything but sleeping. The invitation slips out before you can think too hard about it. 

"You could… stay, anyway, if you want?"

His mouth parts slightly, and those eyebrows raise again. There’s a moment of awkward silence and you are very much beginning to regret your offer, wondering if you somehow violated the sanctity of your co-workers/friends with benefits situtationship. Clumsily you try to backtrack. 

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, you can—"

"No, no! You didn’t, I just don’t want you to feel obligated to invite me to stay in your room. I’m right across the hall, I can go back if you want me to."

You smile awkwardly, silent relief replacing the brief anxiety. 

"It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before." And not like you wouldn’t have ended up doing it tonight anyway, if things had gone as originally intended.

He chuckles, looking to the floor and nodding. The blush on his face does not go unnoticed by you. "Fair enough."

It’s incredibly endearing how nervous he still gets after six months of this little arrangement. 

"Do you wanna get your stuff, or…"

"No, that’s okay. I’ll just go back early tomorrow. The chances of someone seeing me leave your room are significantly higher if I do it so soon after entering."

You squint, unable to tell if he’s fucking with you or if that’s an actual statistically sound probability. And then you realize, blissfully, that you don’t really care. 

"Okay, well. Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to brush my teeth."

Once you’re enclosed in the bathroom, hotel vanity lights blinding you as you brush, you find that there is a jittery sort of apprehension buzzing in your chest. But that’s silly. As you yourself pointed out, the two of you have shared a bed many times over the past few months. But the sleeping together is always a byproduct of the sleeping together. Never have you shared a bed in a completely decent, virtuous, strictly non-sexual manner. It’s always been a matter of convenience—less bother if he doesn’t have to worry about sneaking back into his room in the middle of the night when you’re both exhausted. Or maybe that’s just what you’ve been telling yourselves. 

You rinse your mouth out and exit the bathroom, flicking off the light and finding that Spencer has indeed made himself comfortable. The hotel room is dark and he’s already under the covers, fiddling with his phone. 

"What time should I set the alarm for?" He asks, looking over at you as you crawl into bed, drawing the covers over yourself. "I was thinking 6:23. That should give me enough time to—"

"Sounds perfect," you affirm, wiggling under the blanket as you get comfortable. He schedules the alarm and sets his phone on the bedside table, dousing the room in complete darkness. Your eyes stay open despite, waiting for them to adjust. A few moments of utter silence and stillness pass, and you can tell Spencer is completely stiff next to you. 

"Spencer."

“Yeah,” he answers immediately. Like he’s even more wired about this whole situation than you are. 

"You know you don’t have to avoid touching me at all costs, right? I’m not a leper."

He looses a nervous laugh. 

"I know. We’ve just never really done this."

You frown at the darkness.

"We’ve definitely slept in the same bed before."

"Yeah, but… this feels different."

That, you can’t argue with. Can friends with benefits share a bed just to be near each other? Does that blur some line? And why does it feel more intimate than the sex? 

Screw it. If there is one thing you don’t want your relationship with Spencer to be, it is uncomfortable. Uncertain, you can work with. But not uncomfortable. You reach for him, hand sliding under the duvet—and find his hand already waiting for yours. 

"I don’t think it’s that different," you lie, interlacing your fingers together slowly. 

"Prolonged physical non-sexual contact does have measurable health benefits…" the words are murmured, like the moment is fragile and he doesn’t want to shatter it. 

"Can’t argue with the facts," you breathe, trying to modulate the shakiness of your voice. But you have a feeling you’re doing about as good of a job at concealing your nerves as he is. He shifts.

"Can I…"

"Yeah."

Your heart is pounding as he slips one arm under your neck and the other around your waist, pulling you close. Instinctually you curl into him, slinging your top leg over him as you’ve done before, but always dismissed as post-sex brain chemicals making you feel all warm and fuzzy. A neurological reaction that is so solidly scientific, neither of you ever questioned it. But it feels bigger now. 

He exhales as you settle against each other—a sound of relief that mirrors your own. He’s so warm, so safe as he envelops you, physically and sensorially. In such close proximity, so clear-headed, you notice each layer of his scent. Toothpaste, lavender, vetiver, detergent. You sort of feel like a creep, but you can’t deny how comforting it is. Nor can you deny the pirouette your heart does when he begins minutely rubbing your back, like he’s not even thinking about it. 

"Goodnight," you whisper into his shirt. 

"Goodnight," he whispers back. 

You fall asleep pretty quickly after that. 

------------------------------

It’s unclear what wakes you up—maybe it’s the blue-grey dawn light filtering in through the filthy window (doubtful, it’s still mostly dark) or maybe it’s the blinking green digital clock on the nightstand. 5:02 AM. Your alarm will go off in an hour and 21 minutes.

Sometime in the night you shifted, turning over in your sleep, but Spencer is still holding you close. The arm slung so casually over your waist is slightly domineering, but you manage to rotate again and face him once more. Mere inches away from his face you can see every detail. His expression is so peaceful, it makes your heart ache. 

But you’re just friends. 

Perhaps he felt you moving, because his eyes flutter open and you watch as they flood with consciousness. He takes you in, takes in his arm over your waist. For a split second you’re nervous he’ll pull away. 

"What time is it?" His voice is scratchy with sleep. 

"Five."

"Why are you awake? We have over an hour til the alarm goes off."

"Sometimes waking up early is okay."

His eyes flicker between your own, and momentarily you’re paralyzed as you realize this is a limbo state for the two of you in which you’ve never operated. You don’t know what’s acceptable. You don’t know what to do. Being close to him feels so good, that the idea of separating hurts. But you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, or—

He leans forward and kisses you softly. In the blue light of dawn, rather than frenzied and hidden in the dark, a desperate tear of clothes and teeth and hands—it’s almost freeing. All the anxiety you were feeling just seconds ago begins to melt. 

Friends. 

"You looked anxious," is his whispered answer after he pulls away a moment later, like a kiss is the simplest remedy in the world. He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "We should go back to sleep."

"I don’t want to go back to sleep."

The corner of his mouth twitches as he studies you.  

"No? What do you want?"

Emboldened by your mutual indiscretion, it’s your turn to kiss him. You feel him smile against your lips, hand finding the back of your neck and raking up through your hair to pull you closer. 

The delirium of sleep seems to have softened you, filed down the rough edges of your boundaries and kicked away the lines in the sand. What’s a kiss or two when you’ve just woken up? A small, innocuous display of affection while you’re still barely conscious. Nobody could fault either of you for that. People don’t think clearly when they’ve just been asleep.

So what if your lips part against his, and his other hand finds its way under your shirt to stroke the bare skin of your waist and hips? So what if you hitch that leg over him again and press closer?

Spencer breaks the kiss, still ghosting over your lips. 

"I thought it wasn’t a good night?"

"It’s not night time anymore, is it, genius?"

You sneak another kiss, nipping his bottom lip gently as you pull away. 

Instead of whatever array of responses you were expecting, Spencer smiles slightly, eyes almost sparkling in the faint light. The hand on your hip moves to your face, gently thumbing across your cheek. He begins to say something, and stops himself—biting his lip to hold back the words. 

"What?" you ask, heart dropping. Illusion fracturing. 

"I was just—" he begins, pausing for a moment before the words all come out in a rush. "I was just going to tell you how beautiful you are, but I don’t know if that’s something I should say, or if it would feel too… I don’t know…"

He trails off. A rare instance in which he doesn’t have the words. 

You do. Intimate. Real. Romantic. And he’s right, it does feel too much like all of those things. But that doesn’t mean you don’t like it, perhaps more than is strictly good for you. 

"It’s fine. Thank you."

He continues chewing on his lip for a moment. 

"Did I just ruin the mood?"

"No," you laugh, "not at all."

"Thank god," he sighs, surging forward again. 

"Since when do you thank god?" You manage between kisses. 

He moves to press his lips to your jaw and down your neck. 

"Do you want me to talk about the historical and cultural transition of religious expressions into ubiquitous secular colloquialisms right now?"

"Kind of," you breathe.

"No you don’t," he murmurs against your neck as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "You want me to take your clothes off."

Well, he’s not wrong there. 

You help him tug the shirt over your head before leaning back into the pillows as he situates himself over you and lavishes more kisses down your neck and collarbones, pausing to suck a mark only when he knows it’s low enough to be covered by your clothing later. 

You gasp when his lips brush over your nipple, before running his tongue over the sensitive skin. He glances up at you, and though his mouth is occupied, you can see the humor in his eyes. He loves how sensitive you are—how easy it is to get a reaction out of you. 

Of course, you continue to prove him right when he takes the other into his mouth, trying to hold back your little whimpers as he darts his tongue over the peak. Maybe somebody else wouldn’t hear them, but Spencer does. He’s hyper attuned to the sounds you make. Something of a catalogue has begun to form in the back of his mind; he knows exactly what each noise means and how to get them out of you. 

Once satisfied, he moves to press a kiss to your sternum. 

"You’re gonna be quiet for me, right?" Another kiss above your bellybutton. "Because Morgan is sleeping right on the other side of that wall, and we don’t want to wake him up."

"I’ll be quiet," you promise, somewhat breathlessly. Spencer’s mouth trails lower until he’s pulling your shorts down your legs, leaving you completely naked. He tosses them somewhere on the floor and hooks your legs over his shoulders. 

"Good." He plants one last kiss to your thigh and the next one lands right between your legs. 

You regret the need to be silent almost as soon as he drags his tongue over your clit. It’s not like the two of you have ever had the privilege of making a lot of noise, as the hotel rooms are always so close to each other, but it doesn’t make it any easier. 

Instead you opt to rake your hands through his hair and try to take deep breaths. But he knows exactly what you like—he knows starting light and slow, teasing around your most sensitive spot will work you up to the brink of insanity, just like he knows gentle circles make your back arch and elicit the prettiest little moans. 

"More," you beg, and the hands wrapped around your thighs rub soothingly, reassuring you that if you can just be patient you’ll get what you want. 

He takes your aching clit into his mouth, sucking lightly and you’re forced to clap a hand over your mouth, muffling the sob of pleasure you can’t hold back. Spencer keeps it up until you’re practically riding his face, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his tongue when you get too close. 

"Fuck, please, Spence," you whisper through your fingers, hips rutting in your desperation. Somehow it always ends up like this—with him in charge and you begging. Not that you have a problem with it, of course. 

He hums into you, and if the way his tongue moves back to circling your clit with newfound fervor is any indication, is apparently satisfied with your entreaty. 

You gasp and try to control your breathy moans, but his mouth feels so good on you that your vision is going out and you’re losing touch with reality ever so slightly. You use the last of your brain power to bite down on the back of your wrist, hoping it adequately muffles the noises you make as you come on Spencer’s tongue and he greedily continues lapping at you. There’s really no way of knowing—your ears are ringing anyway. 

When you come to a moment later he’s peppering kisses on your thighs, rubbing your hips gently. 

"So pretty," he murmurs, climbing back up so your lips can meet again. "Everything about you is pretty."

You paw at his shirt, signaling that you want it off as you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, feel your slippery arousal staining the kiss. Spencer helps you, sitting up briefly to unzip his hoodie and pull off his shirt. 

You’re the one to drag him back down, and you notice that he pulls the covers back over the both of you in a sweet gesture he probably didn’t even think about. 

"Need you to fuck me," you beg, reaching down to try and undress him further. 

"So crude. What happened to my nice, sweet girl?" He mumbles against your neck, but helps you with his pants anyway. 

"You must have me confused with someone else."

"Doubtful."

You don’t have much time to consider what that could mean before he’s running the head of his cock over your clit and you’re gasping into his mouth, saying please like it’s the only word you know. 

"There she is," Spencer croons, slipping inside you slow enough for you to feel every inch but quick enough for it to expel all the air from your lungs. Once he’s opened you all the way up, impossibly deep and close, you’re seeing stars, barely breathing. His head has dropped to your shoulder but now he drags his lips up your neck and jaw. "We okay?"

It’s been a while, you realize, since that last case in Maine. He always takes some getting used to. Hardly able to think around the pressure of his cock you nod, trying to string together a few words. 

"Fuck, I need a second." The words come out choked, but you manage. Spencer rubs your hip, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. 

"Relax, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you."

He curses to himself, dropping his head momentarily. You’re so fucking soft, and warm, and perfect, he can’t think straight. But he has to try because he has to take care of you. 

"Spence," you gasp, failing to verbally communicate the intensity of the physical sensation. 

"I know, baby," comes his sympathetic coo. "You know you can take me. Deep breaths."

"Mhm," you squeak, trying to take follow his directions and soften your muscles. Spencer keeps rubbing soothingly over your hips, stomach, whatever he can get his hands on, really, pressing kisses all over your face and telling you how good you are, how perfect you feel for him. After a few moments he feels you fluttering around him and experimentally pulls out halfway, before pushing back in equally as slowly. Your jaw drops as he begins to leisurely fuck you, arms wrapping around his back. He gets deeper than you expect every time, rubbing you raw and stretching you out in the most delicious way. 

"Perfect, baby. Such a good listener, did exactly what I asked."

You cry out when he begins fucking you impossibly deeper, but still so slow and sweet.

"You feel so fucking good for me," he groans. "This is what you were made for, huh?" You agree enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut. 

"Only for you."

Just three words—but he wasn’t expecting to like hearing you say that as much as he does. A strong desire to possess you overtakes him—one that he’ll probably have the decency to feel guilty about later, but for now feels fucking fantastic and intoxicating. 

"Only me?"

You moan an affirmation. 

"Good. I don’t want anyone else fucking you, do you understand me?"

"Yes!"

"I’m the only one who gets to touch you," he breathes, speeding up ever so slightly, "nobody else is going to feel you like this. Such a good girl, spreading her legs for me at five in the fucking morning. You’re not doing this for anybody else, baby."

"Uh-uh, please, pleasepleaseplease Spence—"

He knows what you need, reaching a hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. 

You gasp an airy, high pitched curse, hips twitching but unable to escape the near-punishing rhythm of his own. It’s obvious that your orgasm is close, but you can’t even warn him, too overwhelmed with pleasure. He kisses you, swallowing your moans that have probably become just a bit too loud given the whole hotel thing. 

No words are exchanged between the two of you as you near the finish line for a change, open mouths slipping against each others in what is too messy to be called a kiss. Your orgasm body-slams you, a choked silent scream as you tighten around Spencer and he seems to come at nearly the exact same moment—deep inside you, slowly rolling his hips in a few more strong thrusts as he finishes. 

You let out a delayed moan at the sensation of being filled up, still pulsing around him as he comes to a halt, buried inside of you. He drops his head to your neck, and you can feel each breath against your flushed skin. Other than the panting, you’re both silent for a while. Spencer seems to gather himself sooner than you do, finally breaking the quiet. 

"You okay?"

All you can manage is a little squeak, at which he looses a breathy chuckle. His hand slides to your hip, gently stroking the skin with a thumb. 

"Need your words, angel girl."

"I’m okay," you coo into his shoulder, but he has to strain to hear it above his own breathing. 

"Yeah? Why so quiet?"

But it seems that at least for the moment, he’s gotten all the words he can out of you. When he tries to move, you whimper indignantly, clutching onto him tighter. 

"I really did a number on you this time, huh?" He laughs when you nod into him. "Are you falling asleep?"

"Mhm," you hum dreamily, little puffs of warm air slowing against his neck. 

"You can have…" he cranes his head to check the digital clock, "48 minutes."

"An hour."

He settles his weight on you once more, pressing a chaste kiss to your throat. His voice is low and gentle as he admonishes you. 

"I said 48 minutes."

But it doesn’t matter—you’re already asleep, or close enough to it. Spencer takes the opportunity to shift you to your side, and the way you wrap around him like a vine even unconsciously makes his heart ache. He really should go now—the earlier he gets out of your room the less likely certain complications will arise—but how can he possibly leave you like this? A vulnerable, dreamy girl with tangled hair haloing around her on the pillow case, clinging to him with blind trust that he’ll watch over her as she sleeps? No—there’s no way he’s leaving yet. Instead, he brings you closer. 48 perfect minutes will go by far too quickly, he’s sure. 

[johnslittlespoon]

morning reblog + snippet <3 need to get in the habit of doing this but somehow once the chapter is actually posted i get nervous despite sharing bits and pieces the whole time i'm writing lol?? silly!

sappy but waking up to the ao3 comment emails had me giggling kicking my feet twirling my hair this morning, i rly do tear up reading them, i'm so so thankful for every interaction on this fic and ik i repeat myself every time i post a new chapter but i just. appreciate the love so much and i'm so grateful for the patience i've been shown as i navigate a proper long fic for the first time!! wowie

idk what i did to deserve stumbling into a fandom so kind and sweet and supportive and INSANELY creative and talented (simultaneously thanking barry and hating him for getting me attached to that precious little lieutenant and then ripping him away just as fast fml), i genuinely feel so lucky to have something to be excited about every day and as much as i love writing this fic, i can't wait to be done so i can lock in and pour over all my friends' fics and give back so much love :')))

You're A Dog (I'm Your Man)

Ch. 5/8 – 'I Count My Time In Dog Years'

[WC: 27K | Gale Cleven/John Egan, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Requited Unrequited Love]

John Egan loves like a dog.

[AO3 LINK]